Three Men and a Bed
by Faye Dartmouth
Summary: Three men; one bed. Lots of chaos.


Title: Three Men and a Bed

Disclaimer: I am so sad that I don't own Chaos.

A/N: I don't even remember which fic mentioned a reference to this incident or who first asked me to write about it. But I shared my plot bunny list with **lena7142** and she was intrigued by it so we ended up coming up with the majority of the dialogue for this fic in a chat session. So, some of this is by her as well, and she also provided a beta :)

Summary: Three men; one bed. Lots of chaos.

-o-

Michael shifted uncomfortably. "This is the worst mission _ever._"

"Oh, I don't know," Billy replied, squirming a little. "We've slept in worse places. Remember the tents in Cambodia? Or the cement slabs in the huts of Mongolia? Here we've got a solid roof over our heads and an honest mattress beneath our backs."

"You're conveniently leaving out the part where there is only _one _mattress and three of us," Michael responded, just a touch petulant.

"And no floor space," Casey grumbled next to them. "You would think the CIA could afford to at least put us up in a place that didn't qualify as the world's smallest motel room."

"It is a prime location for the mission," Michael said reluctantly.

"But we will be in less than prime condition due to this oversight," Casey muttered.

"The motel was overbooked," Michael said. "We didn't have a lot of options."

"I'm sharing a bed with you and Collins," Casey griped. "If we had options, I would have insisted upon them."

"Ah, such grumpy gusses," Billy mused. "I'm finding our present circumstances quiet cozy. A wonderful opportunity for team bonding."

"I prefer my bonding to be a little less intimate," Michael said, trying to wriggle away but with Casey on one side and Billy on the other, there was nowhere to go.

"I prefer it to be nonexistent," Casey added.

Billy sighed. For a moment, there was silence.

Then Casey said, "Whoever is touching my leg should remove the offending body part. Immediately. Or suffer the consequences."

"It's not me," Michael said.

"Oh, please!" Billy said. "It's my big toe!"

"How the hell did your big toe get-" Michael began, squirming between his teammates, but then he stopped short. "You know, never mind."

"Whatever it is, it should not be touching me," Casey said. "Especially not when we're both in varying stages of undress."

"Really, lads, I never fancied you both as such prudes. Your American Puritanism is showing and it is not your most attractive quality."

"It's called personal space, Collins," Casey shot at him.

"A little human contact is probably good for you," Billy said.

"Human contact, maybe. Not _idiot._"

Michael sighed. "Can we just _try _to get some sleep?"

There was another brief silence.

Too brief.

Billy cleared his throat, asking in a small voice, "I suppose now is the wrong time to mention that I drank a cup of coffee before joining you lovely gentlemen in this comfortable but undersized bed?"

"What?" Michael blinked. "Why would you even-"

"It was free! The barista was quite taken with me, I'm afraid, and I couldn't just say not to her after she was so kind."

"If she was kind, she'd have given you decaf, you moron," Casey said.

"But it went so well with my bialy!"

"I don't care about your Polish baked goods," Casey muttered gruffly.

"You should," Billy said. "They're quite delicious."

Casey shifted, and Michael spoke up to stop impending violence. "You both remember we have a mission to complete in the morning, right?"

The words had the intended effect and for a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, Casey fidgeted before sighing with uncharacteristic melodrama.

Michael groaned. "You, too, now?"

"He's hogging the blankets!"

"Hogging is an unkind term," Billy said. "I may or may not be using more blanket because I am decidedly taller than both of you."

"But I require a precise temperature for maximum rejuvenation."

"Well, yes, I can see how that might be a problem. However, I am not entirely convinced that it is my problem."

There was a pronounced rustling, and it was all Michael could do to stop the two men flanking him from starting an all out fight. "That's enough!" he said, with as much force as he could muster. "Billy, share the blankets. Casey, stop making idle threats."

"They're not idle."

"Casey."

"Fine!"

Michael nodded. "Billy?"

There was a small pause. "Fine," the reply came finally. "But only for you. Mr. Negativity does not deserve such niceties."

There was a longer pause. This time, Michael dared to believe they might finally have a chance at getting some shuteye.

Then: "Michael?"

Michael cringed. "I'm not getting you a glass of water, Billy."

"Could you move your legs just a touch so I can get up?"

"What do you need to get up for?"

"Nature calls."

"Didn't you go before climbing into bed?"

"It's the coffee," Billy said, as innocently as possible. "Caffeine goes right through me, every time."

Michael groaned. "Damn it, Billy-"

"Shut up, both of you," Casey said sharply. "Your pointless talk isn't just keeping me awake, I think it's actually lowering my IQ."

The bed creaked as Billy clambered up and over Michael, his knee catching the team leader in the gut as he tried to maneuver in the dark. He almost tripped on the blankets, coming dangerously close to pulling Casey out of bed, but managed to keep his footing.

Finally out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom. The light glowed for a moment before the door closed.

In the dark, Michael heard Casey roll over. "Michael?"

"Yes, Malick?"

"Can we lock him in?"

"Don't tempt me."

"I can still hear you two pillocks!"

"That's the point!" Casey called back.

There was a flush and the running of water. The door opened and Billy's figure was silhouetted by the light. "You know, I'm going to start thinking you don't like me."

"We like you fine-" Michael began.

Casey interjected. "Speak for yourself."

Michael ignored him. "We just don't like sharing a bed with you."

Billy gave a hurt expression. "I have it on good authority that I am, in fact, an excellent bedmate."

"Prove it," Casey said.

"I would," Billy said readily. "But somehow I don't think either of you are prime candidates for spooning. Though I could be wrong."

A pillow flew through the air with expert precision.

Billy yelped, fumbling before catching it. Glowering, he threw it back.

Just like that, feather-filled chaos erupted and it was all Michael could do keep the scuffle from waking the neighbors and alerting every mark in the area of their presence and subsequently ruining their already disastrous mission.

Later, with the blankets and pillows back in place, all three operatives were tucked snugly in.

There was silence. Blissful, wonderful silence.

Then-

"Michael?"

"Oh, _come on!_"

"I can't sleep."

"But Billy's _finally _asleep!" Michael said with due indignation.

"I know," Casey replied. "That's the problem."

"How could that _possibly _be a problem?"

"I think I may have gotten used to his blather. It's apt white noise."

Michael sighed. This really was the worst mission _ever. _The fact that it couldn't get worse was his only consolation.

Then, Billy started snoring.

"That's better, actually," Casey remarked, rolling back over.

And Michael covered his face with a pillow and tried not to scream until morning.


End file.
